


Falling For You

by PencilTrash



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, False Identity, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Oblivious Otabek, Prince Otabek, Prince Yuri Plisetsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-30 23:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PencilTrash/pseuds/PencilTrash
Summary: Otabek gaped at the intricately carved silver frame that held a painting of a face. A big scowling face.The boy, certainly Prince Yuri, was wearing fine clothes beneath a worn out cheetah print jacket. His studded crown was tilted on his head, ready to fall at any moment if the boy decided to sneeze. A distinct pinch of the eyebrows was a strong indicator of frustration, even anger. Crystal green eyes - an eye, to be precise, was half visible under the curtains of his messy blonde hair and was currently glaring right back at Otabek.“Holy mother of God!” Otabek flinched away from the painting which he thought might somehow take on a life of its own and punch him square in the face.[Royalty, Arranged marriage AU where Otabek owns a sturdy, black stallion and names him Elizabeth]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpecterQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecterQueen/gifts).



> * Thank you [Jonjo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonjo) and [SpecterQueen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecterQueen) for the beta work. You are amazing! <3  
> 

Otabek didn't believe in love at first sight.

You didn't have the liberty of falling for someone, getting lost in the deep ocean of their eyes or the rosy petals of their plush lips or the subtle pink of their flushed cheeks, not when you knew you were engaged.

He was seventeen when the Plisetskys and the Altins decided to strengthen their alliance by signing a betrothal agreement for their heirs.

Otabek couldn't decide how to react. He'd never seen his betrothed before who lived in the farthest corner of a southern kingdom where it rarely rained. Otabek loved rain, but that was beside the point. He wasn't a child anymore but barely on the cusp of adulthood. The news hardly made him bother about a fifteen year old who he was supposed to wed sometime down the line, perhaps half a decade away.

 _Prince Yuri Plisetsky,_ at least the name rolled well on his tongue and Otabek had enjoyed the attention he’d received right after his father's return from the treaty negotiations. The King had also brought a painting of his betrothed.

Otabek gaped at the intricately carved silver frame that held a painting of a face. A big scowling face.

The boy, certainly Prince Yuri, was wearing fine clothes beneath a worn out cheetah print jacket. His studded crown was tilted on his head, ready to fall at any moment if the boy decided to sneeze. A distinct pinch of the eyebrows, a strong indicator of frustration, even anger. Crystal green eyes - an eye, to be precise, was half visible under the curtains of messy blond hair and was currently glaring right back at Otabek.

“Holy mother of God!” Otabek flinched away from the painting which he thought might somehow take on a life of its own and punch him square in the face.

 _This_ was his first memory of a boy who he was supposed to love. How was he supposed to believe in love at first sight? How?

“You two will make a pretty good pair,” the Queen, Lady Sabrina, cooed over Otabek’s shoulder, squeezing it warmly as she admired the painting.

“Isn't he beautiful _,_ brother?” Lashyn squealed, taking a closer look at the portrait.

Otabek swallowed, eyes skittering between the scary artwork and the beaming faces of his mother and his younger sister. He felt his heart sink in his stomach. “Y- yes,” he stuttered, voice lower than a whisper. “Yes, he _is_.”

At least, Otabek liked the eyes. But, he also would have appreciated a painting that contained a smile. Instead, the prince looked like some cranky child who'd been snatched up in the middle of slumber and tied to a cushioned chair in front of the artist, in order that a portrait be created for his intended husband.

He thought Prince Yuri seemed more detached from the treaty arrangement than Otabek would like to accept.

******

 

Otabek wasn't ready to lose hope.

He'd read poetic stories about _after marriage_ love and he believed in them with his whole heart. He didn't want to be a judgemental fool that evaluated Yuri by a silly painting before actually getting a chance to know him. So, in response to Yuri’s painting, he wrote a letter.

Otabek knew his handwriting was neat and clean. It was, as Lashyn said, like the beads of a pearl necklace. He took his time choosing a fine pen and dark ink to write his first letter to Yuri on scented notepaper. He didn't want to miss this opportunity to make a good first impression on his betrothed.

~~_Dear Prince Yuri_ ~~

He crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it in the wastebin.

 

_Your Royal Highness, Yuri,_

_I was glad to receive the happy news of the agreement on our betrothal and very much appreciate the painting that was sent with my father._

_I would like to ask your permission to begin a correspondence, so that we may become better acquainted before our betrothal is sealed._

_Please accept this small token  as a memento of the commencement of this auspicious bond between our families, our kingdoms, and between us._

_My Kindest Regards,_

_Otabek, Prince of Altin._

In an embroidered pouch he packed a sandalwood statuette which had cost him a good fortune from his trip to the east. He hoped Yuri would like it.

He waited fifteen days to hear back from Yuri.

Otabek squinted at the letters, switching on the brightest lamp on his desk table. But, no matter how hard he focused, he couldn't understand the haywire strokes of ink that were more like an excuse for words. After an hour of glaring and blinking at the paper, finally, he managed to interpret it.

_Otabek, Sir,_

_I am truly honored to know that you are finding this arrangement suitable. May I take the liberty to confess that this engagement came more as a surprise to me than anything else and I am, as yet, at a loss to comprehend how to feel about it._

_Your gift is elegant and a fine piece of ornate art that I would have loved to have it in my collection. Unfortunately, I'm allergic to sandalwood._

_I’m not well versed in the proper style of correspondence. My grandfather, His Majesty, occasionally brings to my attention that my words come out harsher than I intend them to be. But, I also don't want to hide my true nature from you behind flowery words, before we seal our betrothal contract._

_Prince Yuri Plisetsky._

Otabek’s heart skipped a beat. He blinked at the letter, not able to wrap his mind around the uncertain vibes he was getting from it. Nothing was offensive, but Yuri seemed reluctant about all the topics that had been touched upon in Otabek’s letter.

It was his fault. Otabek cursed himself for choosing a gift in a hurry before inquiring enough about what would be to Yuri’s liking.

Of course, he never attempted sending a letter or a gift after this.

******

 

It had been three months since their last exchange and Otabek couldn't gather the courage to initiate another.

He assumed that Yuri was quite contented with things being as they were between them because he’d made no attempt to reach out to Otabek in any way. Not once.

Otabek kept hearing about Yuri from his father who was constantly in touch with the King Nikolai Plisetsky. He heard about how the Prince had won the archery tournament and completed his academic studies with flying colors. Otabek couldn't stop the tickle of pride that warmed his heart for some reason.

Otabek wanted to congratulate his betrothed on his achievements, but he only ended up signing the congratulatory missive his mother wrote for the Prince.

A few months passed in a blur and soon it was the anniversary of the deaths of Yuri’s parents.

Otabek had never been exposed to the intense sadness of losing someone so close, all his loved ones were safe and near, but he could certainly try to understand it. He couldn't imagine his life without his parents. But at least, he had Lashyn to pour his heart out to when he didn't want to share with the adults. But, being the only child, Yuri didn't have that comfort.

He felt for the Prince.

He wanted to send a personalized letter, asking Yuri how he was faring at this sad time, or to convey his support if Yuri needed someone to confide in. But, he worried that it seemed a bit forward. Especially when they hadn't been in touch for more than six months. So, Otabek didn't act on his instincts and signed the condolence letter his father drafted for the Plisetskys.

He still never heard back from Yuri.

******

 

The news of Yuri’s sixteenth birthday ceremony came as drops of rain on the parched land.

The Plisetskys invited the Altins to the private ceremony that would be hosted only for close relatives and there was no damn reason Otabek wasn't going to meet his betrothed.

Face to face.

Otabek couldn't sleep for two nights straight before the journey, as the image of Yuri’s grumpy face with gorgeous green eyes kept haunting his dreams.

At least, the journey to the Plisetsky kingdom was pleasant as he rode his favorite stallion, Elizabeth, to escape Lashyn’s constant teasing.

“Brother, we all know you're eager to meet your Prince,” Lashyn tittered, her honey-amber eyes fondly tripping over Otabek’s cheeks. Damn, he knew he was blushing. “But my poor carriage can't compete with your speed. So slow down, please.”

Otabek rolled his eyes and kicked his heels into the horse's sides, urging him away as fast as he could, before he turned the deepest shade of pink.

They were welcomed at the palace by the King himself.

“Your Majesty,” Otabek bowed his greetings, trying hard not to let his eyes wander elsewhere to search for someone.

The King urged Otabek stand, with warm hands on his arms. “Prince Otabek.” His eyes scanned Otabek’s face, lips curving into a soft smile in silent approval. “I hope your journey was comfortable.”

“Yes, your highness.” Otabek met the King’s kind gaze and couldn't help but return his smile. “I've never been to this part of the country before, but I must say the place is very beautiful.”

“I'm sure Prince Yuri would like to introduce you to more of our lands.”

Otabek jerked his head to catch the source of an interruption, turning away from the King. It was a silver haired man with an ear to ear grin plastered on his face. He was wearing a blood red tunic that looked exquisite contrasted with his pale skin.

“Viktor Nikiforov,” the man bowed, introducing himself. “Prince Yuri’s cousin. And this-” he indicated towards a shorter figure with dark brown eyes and ink black hair, “... this is my beloved husband. Lord Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Welcome to the Kingdom, Prince Otabek. It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Yuuri greeted him with a smile, open and welcoming, shooting fond glance at his husband.

God, they looked so in love. Otabek wondered if they were one of those newlywed couples who hardly seemed able to keep their eyes and hands off each other. He wondered if Yuri - his Yuri - was as romantic as his cousin.

"You must be curious to meet Yuri,” Viktor continued in the same teasing tone. And that was when Otabek realized it was only them who had gathered to receive their guests.

Yuri wasn't there.

“Actually, the Prince wasn't expecting you so early.” Yuuri started to explain, leading Otabek through the avenues of lush gardens to whichever chambers had been arranged for their stay.

Otabek didn't care. He could barely take in the beauty around him. His brain was stuck on the fact that _Yuri wasn't there._ His betrothed-

“Yuri can be moody sometimes, you know?” Viktor continued, taking charge over his husband’s rambling, providing his point of view. “He hasn’t slept well for quite a few nights and-”

“Basically, he was excited about your arrival.” Suddenly, Yuuri butted in.

“He didn't even touch the pirozhki served for last night’s supper,” Viktor chimed in. “And, _that's_ extraordinary.”

“Uh, he meant-” Yuuri openly glared at Viktor. “His stomach was full of anticipation and happiness.”

“And he broke his favorite vase.”

“Anyway it was old.”

“Oh, don't forget the way he tore the invitation ca- _ow!_ ”

“Husband!” Yuuri nudged Viktor in the side, breaking his sentence. “It may be better not have to discuss all the details right at this moment.” He shot apologetic glances at Otabek. “Let our guest take some rest first.”

“Where is Prince Yuri?” Otabek demanded, stopping dead on the spot, refusing to move until he received an answer. He was thankful that his family was continuing their conversation with the King and didn't have to face what was coming next. Otabek himself wasn’t prepared to face what was coming next.

He watched the silent exchange between the couple, the subtle warnings in Yuuri’s eyes and exasperated shrugs of Viktor’s shoulders. At another time, Otabek would have found them adorable. But not now. Certainly not now.

“Basically…” Yuuri started to explain, voice stuttering. “H-he might have…  probably…”

Prince Viktor came to his aid. “Yuri ran away from the palace.”

“Wha-” Otabek choked, almost tripping over an edge of the carpet under his feet. He snapped his head up, looking between the two men who continued their silent exchanges as if Otabek wasn't there.

“What?” Viktor whined, smiling at Yuuri. “I was just trying to tease our guest. Can't a man have little fun?”

Oh. Fun. Okay. O-kay. Otabek’s heart started pounding in his chest.

“I mean, Yuri _is_ missing since morning.”

_What?_

“... But he'll return by tomorrow.” Viktor’s lips spread into a full toothy grin, mouth rounded in a perfect heart shape. “After all, he can't miss his own birthday ceremony, can he?” He clapped Otabek’s shoulder, openly laughing. And Otabek struggled to plaster a fake smile on his face while his chest was bursting with overwhelming emotions. Confusion, uncertainty, anger… sadness, Otabek couldn't figure.

Luckily, the couple took their leave having escorted him to his lavish chambers. The moment they disappeared around a corner, Otabek rushed through the long deserted corridors and outside the palace.

“Your Highness?” When the guards hurried to follow him, he stopped them with a quick flick of his index finger. He needed to be left alone.

Otabek marched straight to the stables where he knew their horses had been housed.

" _Elizabeth!_ ” The horse came trotting towards him at hearing his master's call. His saddle had yet to be removed so Otabek mounted, his fingers gripping the reins, providing the reassurance he needed to keep him grounded. “Take me out of here, _please_ ,” Otabek muttered, words barely audible to human ears. But his stallion breathed heavily in response, in mute understanding of his owner’s command. Plea.

The next moment, they were galloping out of the heavy metal gate of the palace. No one dared to stop him. Otabek didn't much care in what direction they were heading. He needed to clear his mind that was going haywire because his betrothed had fled his own palace.

Just to get away from Otabek.

 

******

  


He rode at a round pace without halting, till the sun reached its peak. Every single muscle of his body was aching from the fatigue of hard riding, his silk tunic sticking to his skin from the sheen of sweat.

As they trotted in the fields just beyond the foreign city, Elizabeth’s hooves clattered on the cobblestones in perfect sync with Otabek’s heartbeat. No one paid attention to Otabek except a few lingering glances and he was happy with the overall disinterest.

The ride was bearable, certainly more relaxing than the suffocating walls of an unfamiliar palace where the person who mattered most had decided to abandon him. Otabek had been living in a false bubble of hopes and dreams for a whole year, and now he knew for sure that his betrothed did not want him.

A loud snort from Elizabeth cut his chain of thought. Before realizing it, he was tossed backwards as his horse bucked at the sudden appearance of a small creature, a snake that quickly disappeared into the grass.

Luckily, Otabek landed on a pile of hay which saved his head from smashing against the surrounding stones. He might have escaped probable death but his horse had been spooked by the incident and had galloped away, leaving his master behind, shocked and alone.

“Elizabeth, wait!” Otabek struggled to get up on his feet, fighting with the strands of dry grass that stuck to his body. “Come back!” he bellowed, watching as his horse’s tail sliced through the air, vanishing behind the distant rows of small cottages. “Ugh, don't leave me.” He flopped down in the hay, legs completely giving out. “ _Not you too_ ,” he muttered to himself, feeling lost and defeated to his very core.

“No wonder he ran off.” Otabek jumped at the sudden sound of a voice.

It was a young man, a boy rather. The first feature that imprinted on Otabek’s vision was his eyes. A pair of crystal green eyes with flecks of subtle blues and browns. Way too familiar eyes. No. Otabek didn’t want his thoughts to slip into that forbidden territory. He shook his head, focussing on the dull, tattered robe which was wrapped around the boy’s lean figure and patches of dirt on his face.

“Huh?” Otabek managed to breathe out.

The boy walked up to him, standing right in front of the pile of hay, his shadow towering over Otabek.

“You named him - a stallion - _Elizabeth_?” he asked, gaping at Otabek as if he'd grown horns. His language was too sharp for the poor, starving commoner that he probably was. “I'm not surprised that he ran off,” the boy commented with a shrug, tucking a stray blonde lock behind his ear.

Otabek creased his eyebrows. He knew that the entire Altin kingdom gossiped about his naming choice for his horse as if it was a matter of national importance. But no one ever dared to question him right to his face. Not until today. This was… different.

“I was a child when I found him,” he muttered, pulling out a strand of hay that was stuck in his hair. “I didn't know he wasn't a… she.”

The boy tilted his head to his side, his eyebrow quirked up.

“And… I wanted to named him after my grandmother. I believe I, uh, _missed her_.”

The expression on the boy’s face melted in an instant, making him look younger, tender. “Oh,” he huffed, offering a hand to Otabek for support. “I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother.”

“She's still alive!” Otabek gripped his hand that felt much softer than he’d anticipated from his overall appearance. He shot up from the pile, taking a couple of disoriented strides. Why in the bloody hell was he even sharing his life story with a complete stranger.

The boy snickered loudly. “I'm sorry, I… I really _am_.” He was shaking, a failed attempt to suppress his laughter, looking anything but sorry. “God, this is the best fun I've had in a whole damn week.” He followed Otabek, walking along at his side. “What’s your name, stranger? You don’t look like you come from here.”

Otabek continued his walk, what else he could do. He certainly wasn’t planning to return to the palace, not without calming his mind. He glanced at the boy who was still looking at him sideways, curious and waiting for his answer.

The company wouldn’t hurt, Otabek thought, if he didn’t want to get stranded in this foreign place. A walk around the town felt more welcome than going back to his family and facing their disappointed faces.

“I’m Otabek. From the Altin kingdom,” he introduced himself, eyes fixed on the road, searching for traces of Elizabeth. “I’m actually new around here. Can you guide me to the market place? I want to-” He halted, noticing the absence of the boy at his side. He twisted around, only to find him frozen a couple of steps behind.

“What’s wrong?” Otabek marched towards him. The boy was looking paler than before, his eyes wide, scanning Otabek’s face with some inner horror. “Hey, hey.” He stepped closer. “Are you not well? Please don’t faint on me. Are you hungry? Do you need water?” Otabek started panicking.

He grabbed for his water canteen that was luckily hanging at his hip. He offered it to the boy, dangling it in front of his face.

The blond blinked at him. For an excruciatingly long moment, probably attempting to count the hairs of Otabek’s eyebrows, seriously, it felt that long. Suddenly, he raised his hand and snatched the canteen from Otabek’s grip.

“Whoa, okay. Easy.” Otabek threw his hands up in surrender, taking an abrupt step back.

The boy started drinking large gulps of water, eyes still boring daggers at Otabek’s face. And Otabek watched helplessly as his only source of liquid was completely emptied into a stranger’s stomach.

The boy wiped his mouth with a careless stroke of his robe’s sleeve.

“Are you feeling better now?”

The boy scowled at him.

“I’ll buy you some fruit if you’ll guide me to the market. Will you come with me?”

“Huh?” The boy let out a shuddering breath at the simple question.

Otabek frowned. The boy certainly looked like he’d been hit on the head. He stepped closer, urging the boy to give him his full attention. “Will you… come with… me?” he asked again. Slowly.

The boy blinked at him with those big, glassy eyes which painfully reminded Otabek of someone else. He looked at Otabek as if seeing him for the first time. For Heaven’s sake, why did he even think this was a good idea? He should probably have looked for his horse. His stupid, spoiled horse.

“Yes. I will.” The boy finally found his voice and Otabek’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“O-kay then. What's your name, stranger?” he repeated the boy's question, hoping to lighten the mood.

The boy opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish, clearly having an internal turmoil about uttering his own goddamn birth nam _e._

“Yu… _Yurio_ ,” the boy spoke, his voice cracking on the words for some reason that was beyond Otabek’s imagination.


	2. Chapter 2

“Here.” Otabek scrutinized the apple carefully, rotating it over the tips of his fingers before offering it to the boy - Yurio. 

Yurio accepted it without uttering a word. And then, he proceeded to grab half a dozen more from the basket, balancing them in his slender hands. When one of them slipped from the edge of his palm, Otabek caught it in mid air like the smooth champion he was and placed it back at the top of the heap in Yurio’s hands. He even attempted his typical smile which, as per Lashyn, made his face look less grumpy and more approachable.

Yurio did nothing but blink at him as if he wasn’t a human. Of course. He'd been silent throughout their journey to the market, unlike his initial bold introduction. At least, he seemed recovered from his trauma and wasn’t growling or throwing stones at Otabek, so he didn’t push his luck. He was quite contented with the pleasant silence that held in the air between them. He listened to the combined scraping of their boots and occasional chirping of  a nightingale . 

Otabek couldn’t recollect the last time he’d visited a local market and bought food himself. That was because he’d never really done it. One word from him and his servants arranged a feast for the entire kingdom. Otabek quite enjoyed this experience where his stomach burned with hunger and his throat ached for one drop of water.

He watched Yurio as he took a large bite of the apple, gulping down half of it in one go. He chomped on the fruit, eyes half lidded as he savoured it on his taste buds. Otabek’s stomach couldn't help but grumbled in need.

“Oi, don’t jinx my food or my stomach will ache at night,” Yurio groaned. “Do you want some?” he offered through his stuffed mouth.

“If you’d allow me, please?” 

“Sure, after all you're the one who’s paying.” Yurio’s eyes hovered over the fruit in his hands, his mind duelling over which one to give up. He finally offered one to Otabek, tucking the others into the large pockets of his loosely fitted robe. If Otabek wondered if the robe was stolen, he didn't dare to care.

“Sire,” the merchant interrupted their exchange, his face wrinkled in frown. “You haven’t paid yet.” 

“Oh, sorry.” Otabek searched his pockets and placed four silver coins at the top of the wooden table.

The merchant stared between the coins and Otabek’s face. God, what was with people and all this staring? He lurched forward, collecting the first two with a face splitting smile, muttering some random remarks about weather and Christmas. 

“Holy God!” He jerked back before his fingers made contact with the third one, eyes bulging in fear as they took in the sharp blade of a dagger that had almost cost him his fingers.

Otabek gaped at the dagger and its owner. “ _ Yurio? _ ”

“Return his coin or lose your fingers.” Yurio glared at the merchant, eyes sharp, predatory, fingers clutched at the hilt, ready to strike.

The merchant snapped the coin back on the table. He attempted a laugh that looked awkward on his sweat covered face. “I-I was about to return it, S-Sire.” His eyes scanned the half slipped hood of Yurio’s robe and then he crouched down to stare at his face. “W-wait- are you…  _ Jesus Christ _ \- My Prin-”

The next moment, Yurio landed on the top of the table with a loud thud, his fingers curled into a fist. “Shut your mouth or lose your teeth,” he warned the merchant, daring him to say another word.

“God, Yurio. Get down.” Otabek helped him off the table, gripping his elbow. “You’re scaring the poor fellow.”

“But he was  _ cheating _ ,” Yurio retorted, shouting in Otabek’s face, snatching his hand from his hold. “How can you be so naive?”

Otabek laughed. It was hilarious. No one called Otabek naive- other than his sister, and his mother, and - No. Otabek was cunning, Otabek was fierce. “I don’t mind,” he shrugged, placing soothing hands on Yurio’s shoulders. “He probably needs it more than me. Look at him.” He waved in the merchant's general direction who immediately slumped his shoulders, curving his lips downward in his most abject expression. Otabek rolled his eyes at the dramatic display. 

He turned towards Yurio. “... And what’s with your language?  _ Shut your mouth or lose your teeth? _ ” He enacted Yurio’s angry bark. “Who talks like that?”

“Viktor… ”

“Who?”

“I, uh… nothing, j-just some old, bald guy who I've grown up watching,” he stuttered in a panic. “C’mon. Let’s go.” He dragged Otabek away from the merchant, as if the man were about spill his deepest, darkest secrets. The silver coins sat long forgotten.

 

******

  
  


Otabek’s legs were aching from the long walk but the sound of Yurio’s continuous rambling, as he animatedly described famous spots around the town, felt pleasing to ears. 

Yurio spoke with authority, like he owned the place. His eyes gleamed with pride, face softened with fondness as he introduced Otabek to the heavenly beauty of every inch surrounding them, enchanting colors of blossom, sweet taste of honey, earthy scent of the soil beneath their feet. Surely, Yurio was in love. With his hometown. And, Otabek found himself openly staring at him.

“Hurry, come with me,” Yurio urged, shooting an urgent glance at Otabek over his shoulder. “This is my favorite part of the day.”

They headed towards the crossroads. By looking at the sheer numbers in the crowd, Otabek realized it was definitely the favorite part of the day for many others.

The air filled with the ethereal symphony of flute and violin, beats of drums thudded in sync.

“I love this melody,” Yurio chirped, bouncing on his feet. 

Otabek stood there, folding his hands against his chest, taking in the heavenly sound of the music. 

It was then when his eyes caught sight of a small girl standing on her tiptoes, neck stretched to get a good look at the show. She was short, age no more than seven, mouth downturned in a sad pout since she couldn't get through the tall wall of the gathered crowd.

Otabek walked up to her. “May I?” He waited for a moment before the girl jutted her chin up. She watched him with amused eyes and finally spread her arms in affirmation. Otabek scooped her up in swift motion.

“Thank you,” she beamed, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. Otabek couldn't stop smiling looking at the light blush that covered the girl’s chubby cheeks. When he looked at Yurio, he found a matching blush plastered on his cheeks and Otabek almost forgot how to breathe.

“Let's go farther in,” Yurio tugged at the Otabek’s free sleeve, cutting through the crowd.

“Wait. We should probably-” Before Otabek could finish his sentence, they reached the front row.

The music grew louder and even more enchanting. Otabek couldn't help but tap his feet to the beat. He watched as a few bold dancers stepped in to show off their skills. One by one, everyone was pulled in, forming a large circle as they linked their hands together. Otabek scrambled back to give way to others.

“I'm Maria.” The girl shifted in his hold to look at him. “May I have a dance with you?” she asked, almost jumping with overflowing excitement, her voice adorably pleading. “Pleeeease?” 

Otabek didn't have the heart to refuse her. He turned to Yurio who shrugged in response. Traitor.

“Good luck. I'll be watching,” he chuckled instead, shoving at Otabek’s shoulder, pushing him towards the front.

Otabek scowled at him.

There was no way back. He put Maria on the ground and she straightened her back with elegance, lifting her long gown just enough so it wouldn’t hinder her steps. She raised her eyebrows, making Otabek take his position. 

He bowed in response, a well practiced gesture from his years and years of dance lessons. He was sure he heard a snicker from Yurio.

“C’mon. We don't need these formalities here.” He almost stumbled over his feet when Maria tugged him right into the middle. “Relax. Breath…  and have fun,” she tittered as Otabek wiped sweat beads from his forehead.

The thumps from the drum grew louder. Otabek struggled for a moment or two before he followed other dancers and got his rhythm.

One two three… clap

One two three… jump

One two three… swirl

His feet danced to the music, hands looping with others as they circled around. He twisted his leaps to match the wild steps,  twirling his little partner till she broke into giggles and Otabek joined her. 

It was crazy, but he enjoyed every single bit of it. 

He danced till his chest burst with happiness, his legs became jelly, and his eyes watered with non-stop laughter. When he searched his surroundings for Yurio, he caught him staring, lips parted in awe, expression melted into something very tender, as if he were lost in his own small world right in the middle of the crowded marketplace.

When Otabek quirked his eyebrow and mouthed  _ what  _ at him, Yurio flinched visibly, coming out of his trance. He shook his head rigorously and waved at Otabek to continue with a soft smile.

Otabek obeyed thoroughly. He and Maria were the last ones to leave the floor.

“Wait for me.” Little Maria vanished among the dispersing mass. Before Otabek could call her, she returned with something colorful in her hand.

A flower crown, made of fresh daisies and lilies and others he could not name, more different types than Otabek had ever seen.

“My mother makes them.” She tugged at Otabek’s hand making him crouch down in front of her. She placed the crown on his head, taking a step back to admire the view. “It looks good on you.” She leaned forward and placed a quick peck on his cheek. “Thank you for the dance.” She bowed to him.

It was Otabek’s turn to flush red. 

For the moment, he didn’t dare meet Yurio’s eyes, which he knew were glinting mischievously at him.

 

******

  
  


“You're really good with children.” Otabek looked up at the sudden compliment. Unconsciously, he touched his crown and smiled to himself, ears still burning.

“I've a younger sibling who I'm very close to. She keeps me busy.”

“Oh.” Yurio let out a heavy breath, eyes fixed on the road as they walked back towards their destinations. “It must feel nice to have your family around. All the time.” He raised his gaze and locked it with Otabek’s as if searching for some answers. “You're lucky, you don't have to leave.”

Otabek’s eyebrows creased in confusion, unable to figure where the conversation was heading. Well, he was the heir of his kingdom. He'd vouched to protect his nation till his last breath. There wasn't a question of  _ leaving _ them. Even after the marriage-  _ if _ there was a marriage - it was the other Prince who was supposed to join the Altins. The Plisetskys had Viktor Nikiforov to rule. It wasn't the case with the Altins. Otabek was their future king.

“Not everyone is as lucky as you though.” Otabek sighed at Yurio’s strong tone which sounded more like an accusation than a simple statement. 

“It wasn't always like this,” he confessed. He wanted to give justification. The intense look on Yurio’s face was screaming that it was important to him. He thought maybe he could help by sharing his experience. Otabek wasn't very good at giving advice, but talking to Yurio was… easy.

He felt Yurio’s eyes on him, but he fixed his own to the setting sun, taking in the mesmerizing play of colors in the sky to calm his mind enough before touching on the sensitive topic.

“I had to leave, travel abroad to study, before I even knew how to hold a sword.”

He was young. Very young. But he knew he would have to carry the burden of the entire nation of his shoulders. He'd had to strive for excellence. Be the best. He'd had to devote his tender years to learning combat skills and politics where others indulged in the lavish lifestyle of being a Prince.

“I was away from home for half of my life. I had… responsibilities to fulfill,” he continued as if talking to himself, getting lost in memories. “It was tough at the beginning. I even tried to run away from it.” He huffed out a laugh. “But they caught me. And I'm grateful that they did. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been the person I am today.” 

He tore his eyes away from the sky and gathered courage to look at Yurio, who was quiet and hadn't attempted to interrupt him even once. Otabek hoped he was listening. 

“Change is good sometimes.”

Yurio jerked his head to look at him, expression the usual dumbfounded and amused, as if Otabek wasn't real. At least he was listening.

“All you have to do is… give it one chance.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Otabek, because he loved watching as emotions played on Yurio’s face, one after the other, slowly, the way the pinch between his eyebrows melted into a soft line, frown lines flattened, eyes blown wide, glinting with discovery of something unknown. He didn't know what Yurio was searching for, though.

They both jumped at the sound of a commotion across the street.

It was a group of farmers whose cart was sunk into a pothole. They were shouting and passing remarks in frustration, clearly they had been trying to move it for a long while. One of them was busy slapping his whip on the horses, who looked weak and thoroughly drained. They neighed in pain, unbalancing the cart even more.

“Stop it!” Otabek rushed towards them. “You two.” He pointed at the two stocky figured men. “Go at the back and wait for my call, and you two-” he ordered the remaining two. “Support them on either side.”

His voice had such a commanding tone that they all followed him without uttering a word.

Otabek marched towards the horses. He stroked their manes, adjusting the hitches on their backs. “It'll be over in no time. I promise,” he said in a soothing voice.

Once they looked settled and more alert, he joined the farmers at the back of the cart. He dug his fingers into the cart’s rear, prepared to heave it up.

Before he could proceed, his eyes caught sight of Yurio, still standing ten feet away, one hand rested on a tree’s trunk, the other casually tucked in his shabby robe pocket. His expression was smug as if he owned the place, looking way too contented with the scene in front him.

“What?” Otabek demanded. “Care to join me?”

He'd expected full protest in response, at least a snarky comment, but what he received was a beaming smile that even dimmed the sunshine and a soft -  _ “Of course. I care.” _

Otabek’s jaw dropped to the floor.

Yurio strolled towards him, with the grace of a trained dancer, taking his position right beside Otabek. Their shoulders bumped when he crouched down to gently grip the cart like some lazy cat.

“Yurio?”

"Uh-huh?” he hummed in response, eyes fixated on the muscles of Otabek’s arms as he tightened his hold around a metal rod. 

“You're standing on my foot!”

“O-oh sorry,” Yurio flustered.  He took a step back, blushing hard. 

“If you two are done then… c-can we please continue now?” the farmer at Otabek’s left pleaded. “This thing is  _ heavy _ .”

Otabek snatched his eyes away from Yurio, focussing on the job in hand.

“Ready?” he asked. “One, two… push. One, two… push.” He kept them in  rhythm, uniting their efforts. Soon, the wheel was out of the pothole. 

The farmers celebrated with loud cheers. They also offered a few bags of grain to express their gratitude. Otabek politely declined.

In the chaos of thank yous and goodbyes, Otabek almost missed the familiar tapping of hooves and chime of saddle bells.

_ “Elizabeth!”  _ Otabek shouted in delight. He ran towards his stallion, literally leaping to loop his arms around his favorite companion. “You found me.”

“Such a smart horse you got here.” When Otabek turned to look at Yurio, he was already massaging the horse's neck with a gentle strokes of his fingers.

“Yes, he's clever,” Otabek said with pride. “I'm glad he's back.”

They walked a few steps together, knowing it was time to depart.

“Should I drop you off somewhere?” Otabek insisted. “You must return to your home. It'll be dark soon.”

“Only if you let  _ me _ ride.” Yurio spread his palm in front of him, asking for the reins.

Otabek squinted at him, assessing if the boy was teasing. “Um, I don't think it's a good idea,” he hesitated. “I mean, Elizabeth might be a good stallion, but I must warn you he's also very stubborn. He's rather selective about his riders. And usually, it's only me.”

“Oh, eh?” Yurio looked right into his eyes, appearing thrilled to accept a challenge. 

He proceeded to pat the horse’s shoulders, slipping his hand in the pocket. He took out an apple from their morning's shopping which he must have saved. “You must be hungry, my friend.”

Elizabeth leaned into his touch and devoured his treat.

Otabek didn't even realize when Yurio whisked the reins away from his hand and mounted the horse. He was too engrossed watching their initial exchange.

“C’mon, join me.” Yurio offered his hand to Otabek, circling the horse around him in an easy motion.

It was Elizabeth, the stallion who hardly let anyone touch his reins, let alone allowed someone to ride him. And here was Yurio, who was rude and stubborn at best, cooing insanely sweet compliments at a horse.

At that moment Otabek realized, no matter how hard Yurio tried to hide behind his rough demeanour, in reality, he was gentle at heart.

“Alright.” Otabek breathed, his lips curved into a smile. He took Yurio’s hand and joined him on his horse.

Their return journey was silent. 

They were tired from the long walk around the town the whole day. The chilled night breeze ruffled his hair, making his eyes heavy. From this close, he could smell the jasmine scent of Yurio’s hair that felt even more soothing. With the rhythmic taps of Elizabeth’s hooves, he didn't realize when his face dropped to settle against Yurio’s broad shoulder and he drifted off to sleep.

  
******

 

Otabek felt a tickle in his right ear. He shuddered, slapping his hand on his cheek to shoo away the fly or whatever it was.

“Hey, wake up.” Suddenly the strong support which had been holding his head was gone, and it planted flat against the now empty saddle.

Yes, he was still on his horse. His eyes strained, trying to focus on his surroundings through narrow slits. 

“C’mon. We've reached home.” A soft chuckle finally managed to get his attention. 

_ Yurio _ , he hummed and smiled. He hardly shifted his position, still sleepy.

“Otabek!” 

“Yurio?!” He jerked awake, bolting upright on his horse. He winced out of the sweet daze of his nap. “Sorry. I, uh-”

“That's okay,” Yurio muttered, his voice laced with a hint of a smile. “I don't mind. You look tired.”

“Yeah.” Otabek wiped his face with a quick drag of his hand, the other hand searched for the reins.

“I must go now.”

The statement snapped Otabek out of his sleep ridden state. 

“W-Wait,” Otabek blurted out without thinking, not sure what he was planning to offer. He looked around, eyes catching the distinct silhouette of the palace. 

He felt a knot tighten in his chest. In Yurio’s company he'd almost forgotten the main purpose of his existence in this foreign land. 

He looked down at Yurio. His blond hair were shining with a golden hue from the setting sun as it escaped the cover of his dirty hood and waved freely with the evening wind. His face looked tired and melted into a raw expression somewhere between amused and calm, eyes glassy with a mischievous glint. 

Otabek shook his head, gathering his thoughts which were threatening to enter unknown territory. 

This was it. Otabek knew it. It was the last time he would be seeing this lanky, mouthy boy who'd helped him to forget the current stress of his life. One pleasant distraction and Otabek thought he was ready to face whatever was coming his way. But still, the thought of separation made his heart race with an anxious stutter.

“At least… Let me accompany you to your destination,” he offered.

“I'm from around here,” Yurio reassured, fixing his hood over his head. He walked backwards, eyes never leaving Otabek’s. “Don't worry about me.  _ This _ is my destination.”

“Oh,” Otabek huffed. He tried to curve his lips to hide his disappointed tone.

“Good bye, Elizabeth.” Yurio clapped the horse’s back, directing Otabek towards the gates of the palace. Yurio turned around, following the path of a narrow lane. “I hope to see you again, Prince,” he shot over his shoulder.

Otabek jerked as Elizabeth jolted forward. "I hope so-” his words left incomplete as Yurio rushed away and disappeared behind the bushes. 

Otabek let out a heavy sigh, watching the now vacant space that was slowly vanishing with the lengthening shadows of the trees.

_ Wait- _

He was certain that he'd never shared his own destination with Yurio or uttered the fact that he was a noble. His skin broke into goosebumps as a cold shiver crept up his spine.

Yurio felt like a ghost, a dream rather. A beautiful dream that always broke when you opened your eyes.

******

Otabek reminded himself to breathe as he walked through the decorated hallways of the palace. Everything was bright and radiant, from the glow of carved metal sculptures to the thick carpet under his feet.

It was Prince Yuri’s birthday ceremony.

His morning had started miserably, he'd had to listen to an hour long lecture from his father and worse, had to face the disappointed look on his mother's face. Even Lashyn’s warm hugs hadn't helped to calm his agitation.

He swallowed, eyes fixed on Prince Viktor’s back as he led the Altins to a spacious dining chamber for the birthday feast.

The ceremony was private as it was the first time the two Princes would meet. Still, Otabek could feel the weight of at least a dozen pairs of eyes assessing him and he wanted nothing more than to flee immediately. But he must face his inevitable fate and get it over with.

It wasn't a secret that Prince Yuri was against the arrangement. Otabek had overheard a few of the servants gossiping about it. He could feel the eerie wave of sadness evident in the air as both the families worried about the future of their heirs. At least the Prince had shown proper courtesy towards his guests and had returned to the palace at the stroke of midnight.

It was okay. Life wouldn’t end here, Otabek tried to comfort his mind. It would be a small formality to break the arrangement between the two kingdoms. They'd still remain as strong allies but without the bond that would tie their heirs together in a relationship. No matter how prepared Otabek was for anything and everything that was in store for him, his heart still hurt.

As they waited for the Plisetskys to arrive at the dining table, Otabek clutched at edge of the table. He fixed his eyes on the silverware and barely raised his head to answer the formal questions asked of him.

There was a commotion as the guards skittered to stand alert and Otabek had to look up to welcome their host.

A group of nobles were heading his way led by King Plisetsky himself. To his left, Otabek recognized a man with a beaming smile - Lord Yuuri Katsuki. To his right it was -

_ “Yurio?” _ Otabek gasped, taking in the familiar lean figure and curtain of long, golden hair. “I thought I - why- how are you here?”

“Prince Otabek...” Yurio breathed. He walked straight to him, face split in an ear to ear grin. The fond expression on his face felt familiar yet entirely new. It was tough to explain. In a silk olive tunic that complimented his crystal green eyes, Yurio was looking clean and… breathtaking. 

Otabek didn't even realize when he had stood from his own chair and was gaping at Yurio like an idiot. 

“Have you two already met?”

Otabek turned his head at the King’s sudden question. He creased his eyebrows, looking at the odd but joyous smile forming on the King’s lips. It was clear that the question was directed at Yurio who rubbed back of his neck, suddenly looking awkward. 

”Yes grandfather, we kind of… already met.”

_ Grandfather? _

Realization hit Otabek like a splash of cold water, bursting the false bubble of whatever he was living inside. He could literally feel as the wheels of his brain started rotating, putting together events of the previous day like puzzle pieces.

_ Yurio was Prince Yuri… _

And the smile on Yuri’s was screaming that the whole time he’d been aware of it.

“You lied to me?” Otabek frowned at him, his fingers curling into a fist. 

“What? No. I, uh, well, _a_ _certain individual..._ ” he quickly shot a glare at Lord Katsuki before turning back towards Otabek. “... prefers me calling Yurio rather than my real name. So technically, I didn’t… exactly… lie?” The statement was more like a question, as if he was requesting Otabek’s consideration.

“The whole time…” Otabek opened and closed his fingers in a nervous motion. “You knew who I was and you didn't care to disclose your identity.” He clenched his jaw, feeling like a fool. Betrayed.

He whipped around and started walking away.

“Otabek!” He heard the tapping of leather boots as Yurio- Yuri-  _ god whatever _ \- rushed to follow him.

He passed Otabek and stopped in front of him, arms spread at his sides, blocking his exit. “Please,” he muttered, panting as if had run for a mile. “Let me explain.”

Otabek glared at him.

“I, uh,” Yuri struggled for words, which Otabek never thought he would get to witness in this lifetime. “I'm sorry,” he almost begged. 

Otabek didn't move a muscle. Yuri had tricked him and Otabek wasn't going to go easy on him.

“I didn't plan for this,” Yuri continued in soft whispers, only audible to Otabek because of how close they were standing. 

“But then… you were standing in front of me like an open book and I… I couldn't help it, I wanted to know more about you.”

His eyes tripped over Otabek’s face, scanning every inch of it, reading him all over again.

“I wanted to get to know you before I have to leave everything I’ve known my entire life and… and walk away with you.”

Otabek’s expression softened at that. They'd talked about it the day before and now he knew the reason for Yuri’s strong reluctance.

“You don't… ” He swallowed, gathering his thoughts before he started talking. It was a sensitive topic and Otabek wanted to handle it carefully. He wasn't going to force the burden of an unwanted relationship on anyone. Not on Yuri. Not on himself. “You don't have to do this.”

“No...” Yuri gasped, taking a step closer, hand raised to reach out, but not exactly touch him.  _ “I want this.” _

Otabek felt a knot loosen in his chest.

“I agree that I was apprehensive before… a little.”

There was a loud scoff from the background, probably from Viktor. “You literally begged me to scare him away.”

Otabek didn't care. He wanted nothing but to listen to the sound of Yuri’s musical voice as he gazed into Otabek’s eyes as if he was the sun.

“But then, I couldn’t stop myself from falling for you.”

Otabek’s heart started thundering in his chest. Prince Yuri was confessing his affection right in a middle of the crowded dining room. Right in front of their friends and families.

“I'd like to know more about you,” Yuri brushed the fingertips of Otabek’s hand, feeling hesitant, probably expecting to be shoved away. 

Otabek didn't withdraw, winning a relieved smile from Yuri.

“I'm also ready to try a correspondence with you even if I'm terrible at it.” Otabek’s resolve broke slowly as the warm fingers wrapped around his. “I just… I wanted to ask your permission.”

There was a brief moment when they gazed at each other.

“You have my permission,” Otabek blurted out way too quickly.

The next moment, the entire room erupted into loud cheers and clinking of wine glasses. The celebrations had already started.

“Aw, now _please_ _kiss him_ ,” Lashyn cooed in the background, making them flush an identical shade of pink.

**Author's Note:**

> * Comments/Kudos are gold!! They keeps motivating me to write more  
> * I am on tumblr - [PencilTrash](http://PencilTrash.tumblr.com), where you can get fic updates.


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